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Once Upon a Time.

The Anna Raccoon Archives

by Anna Raccoon on May 10, 2011

Are you sitting comfortably children? Gather round.

Once upon a time, the Germans and the French fell out. Rather badly. They were neighbours and it became difficult for everyone. “What can we do to stop this happening again”, said the grown ups? “They won’t share their toys any more.”

They looked across the water to the Mother of all Parliaments for a solution.

You see, children, long, long, ago, Mummy Parliament had had the same problem. The little Scottish boys and the little English boys had fallen out over the Hadrian fence, as had the little Welsh boys and the little English boys over the Uffa ditch, and Mummy Parliament had insisted that they shared all their toys out equally. She called it a Union, and henceforth the little Welsh boys had to share their water with everyone else, and the little Scottish boys had to share their barren hillsides with everyone else, and eventually even the little Irish boys had to share their overwhelming debt with everyone else, and it was all a resounding success.

They stopped fighting; actually they had to stop fighting, because by that time they had unelected judges forcing their laws on everyone and making it an offence to call the Irish work dodging tossers, or even the Scots, tight fisted gits. Mummy Parliament made lots of new laws giving civil servants delegated powers to change all the laws she passed from something that sounded vaguely sensible to something that made no sense at all in operation, and she shared all the pocket money out according to need rather than according to who had done the most work. Mummy said everyone could sleep in whichever bed they liked, no need to ask permission, and if anyone needed new toys, Mummy would pay for them.

“Why, that’s the very model of what we need” cried the neighbours of the French and the Germans. “We’ll do the same thing”. And they called it a Union, just as Mummy had done. They had unelected judges making the law, and civil servants dreaming up daft ideas under delegated legislation, and everyone could sleep in anyone else’s bed, and the little boys with barren hillsides could have new toys and everything – what could go wrong?

It worked so well that Mummy decided she wanted to join in too, and eventually she was allowed to.

“But” cried Mummy, “I’m not sharing my pocket money with you, you give it out equally to little boys with barren hillsides who don’t do any work”. The grown-ups were baffled, they’d just been copying Mummy after all, but they said nothing (relatively!) and gave Mummy a rebate on her pocket money.

“And” cried Mummy, “I’m not having you lot sleeping in our beds willy-nilly, you have to ask permission first” The grown-ups were baffled, they’d just been copying Mummy after all, but they said nothing (relatively!) and drew up the Schengen agreement which said that you could sleep in everyone else’s bed except those in Mummy’s house.

“And another thing” cried Mummy, “You’ve got these unelected judges making laws, its outrageous; I’m not standing for it.” The grown-ups were baffled, they’d just been copying Mummy after all, but they said nothing (relatively!) and gave Mummy lots of exemptions and ways out of following the laws. She didn’t take them; she applied the laws far more strictly than she had to and then blamed the grown-ups for the resulting mess.

“And whilst I’m on the subject” cried Mummy (“are you ever off it”, cried the grown-ups) “I’m not having the pocket money shared out according to need, those little Greek boys have done nothing for me, they don’t deserve it” The grown-ups were baffled, they’d just been copying Mummy after all, but they said nothing (relatively!) and……

To be continued when it has been decided whether following Mummy’s example of how to form a Union was a good idea or not…..

No, actually. Scottish mainland and Northern Ireland are about 12 miles apart at the closest point. (More practically, Stranrear to Belfast is about 40 miles.) Obviously, English and Irish mainland are a bit further apart, but you can reduce that by using the Isle of Man as a stepping stone.

Mummy’s example was many moons ago and times, attitudes, families, countries, cultures, economies, boundaries have all changed. Mummy had good control of her children but those distant cousins are bigger and stronger and unruly and aggressive and want eveything their way and aren’t even really that keen on mummy. They are not the same as mummy, never have been despite being family many many years ago.

Ah – but Mummy’s union of English, Welsh, Scots and Irish developed over several hundred years, and for different reasons in each case. First off, the Welsh, who were not that keen at the time, but got seriously clobbered by a peevish English king for some trifle we’ve all now forgotten. The Scots ran out of pocket money, and asked to join in. Don’t let’s get started on Irish history – that could cause all sorts of ructions we’re currently trying to smooth over. Then there’s the Manx and the Channel Islanders who have one foot in and one foot out…

The European thing didn’t develop, it was rammed together without much evolution allowed to happen. It might have been a good idea in theory, but practice rarely follows theory, especially in the case of human nature. The South Europeans like a leisurely lifestyle (and if you lived in that sort of heat, you probably would too); us Northern Europeans like to work a bit harder to keep warm. So one-size-fits-all was bound to lead to squabbling and tears before bedtime – which it has, especially over pocket money.

Interesting too, that Mummy’s brood are getting fractious. Again, let’s not provoke the Irish question (not after the last time…), but now the Scots want to go and play on their own (though whether they’d like it if they did is another matter). The Welsh have had a rummage in their piggy-bank and decided to stay put with Mummy for now (or at any rate with the Bank of Mummy).

So what do we make of all this? Perhaps that peoples quite like their tribal identities, and get peevish if someone tries to homogenise them.

What’s the right answer? Well, there probably isn’t one, but the best compromise as things stand at the moment seems to be retaining individual nations and promoting close cultural, trading and diplomatic links between them. So everybody has their own room to go and sulk in if they feel like it, but can get together some of the time to enjoy each other’s company.

Just a little correction for you to ponder, Engineer. The Welsh may have been duffed up by a few English kings, but the Tudors were Welsh. So you can truthfully say that in fact eventually the Welsh took over the English throne. Just a point, to grt you talking.

Mummy hadn’t told the little boys and girls what was really in that big agreement signed on her behalf by that Scottish crook that she mistakenly hired. She had signed away all her control over her own home. Then all the children were wrapped in cotton wool and watched day and night by finger-wagging busybodies in flourescent jackets holding clipboards. They were called ‘PCs’ but the boys and girls didn’t know if that meant Police Constables or Political Correctors or Pole Cats or what. And all their toys were old and Mummy couldn’t afford new ones. And somehow their piggy banks kept on shrinking while the PCs seemed to be getting fatter every day. So they just kept quiet and kept on reading Animal Farm until they all grew up and got their hands on some serious weaponry. Please turn to page 94……..